Disclaimer: I don't own POTO, or any of its characters. However, if any of the people who DO own it, grow tired of ownership, I take donations.
The search party came by the next morning. I could hear them outside talking to Gaspard. One of the voices, which I recognized as Yves, was explaining that the young Vicomte LeMauvoisin had disappeared from this carnival the day before, and that the Comte was out of his mind with worry. They had, he stated, found the boy's mask on the bank of a nearby river, and feared the worst. The Comte has told them that the boy had last been seen in the area of the side show, playing with a monkey. Did Gaspard have any information that might aid in their search? Of course, Gaspard insisted that he'd never seen me, and obligingly suggested that they question the other people in the area. I heard the party moving off, although Yves' voice remained close by. I heard the faint clink of coins, and Yves saying that the money was to insure that Gaspard and the others continued "not to have seen me". Gaspard assured him that all would remain discreet, and then bid Yves a most obsequious adieu.
It was done, then. My father had gotten rid of me neatly and quite effectively. The mask in itself would be proof enough that I'd drowned. When had anyone known me to willingly go anywhere without my mask? What would they call it, a tragic accident, or a suicide? I ground my teeth in rage. My father had preferred to let his line die out than to allow me to continue it. This whole charade had been solely because of that, and it had been so easy! I had been so stupid, so blind and trusting. I vowed that I would never allow anyone to gull me in such a manner again.
That night, the sounds from outside of the tent changed. There was great activity, but not the familiar sounds of barkers luring the crowd into the shows. There was much banging, crashing and yelling, and it went on for a very long time. When quiet finally descended, Gaspard entered the tent. He unbound my feet, and dragged me upright. "Come, little Vicomte, we are leaving Rouen", he leered, and I was pushed, half staggering outside, and into a waiting wagon. I slumped to the floor, and the door slammed behind me. I could hear a bolt sliding in place, and Gaspard yelling at someone to get going. The wagon gave a lurch, and began to move. We were leaving Rouen, and everything I'd ever known, behind. I'd dreamed of someday being free of my wretched childhood home, but not this way. Not this way.
I don't know how long we traveled, but it seemed an eternity. We made an occasional stop, and I was fed, and allowed to attend to rather pressing bodily matters. The members of the little troupe stared when Gaspard would take me from the wagon, but no one said a word to me. They merely gestured toward my face and talked amongst themselves.
We finally reached our destination, but I was kept in the wagon as they set up. I wondered fearfully what was going to happen to me. I knew that there was no reason to keep me locked up forever. What would be the purpose? My conclusion was that now that we were away from Rouen, they would kill me. As miserable as most of my life had been up to that point, I did not want to die. Such an irony!. What transpired in the next few hours made me wish that my first supposition had been correct.
The door opened, and Gaspard appeared. He dragged me outside and removed the gag, and the rope which bound my wrists. We were standing in front of a large tent, and when he shoved me through the door, I saw there was a cage inside. Gaspard produced a sack, pulled it over my head, and ordered me into the cage. I panicked. I couldn't see a thing, and was sure that I was about to be executed. As I stood there frozen, Gaspard lost patience. I was herded into the cage with a series of sharp blows and vicious kicks. I heard the cage door clang shut behind me, and Garpard's voice telling me not to remove the sack until he told me to.
I felt a warm trickle of moisture from my nose, and realized it was bleeding. In moving the sack around to attend to the problem, I realized that there were two eyehole cut into it. I adjusted the sack a bit, and I could see again. There was not much to see. I was sitting on a pile of straw, in a cage, in the center of a filthy tent. I had no idea why I was in the cage. At the moment it didn't even matter. It was just another occurrence in my life, which was rapidly becoming more and more bizarre. It was then that I heard a scuffling on the ground outside of the cage. I cringed, fearing it was Gaspard again. Someone began tugging at the sack, and I grabbed for it, loathing the thought of having my face exposed again. I did not grab the sack. Instead I caught hold of a small furry arm. It was Rollo! He seemed to recognize me, and what's more, seemed pleased to see me. I know I was happy to see him. Rollo seemed intent on playing "throw straw at Erick", and I was content to let him do so. After the solitude I had endured since my abduction, I was grateful for any contact from another creature. Outside the tent, I heard them getting ready for the first show. The barkers began working the gathering crowd, and I noticed that Gaspard was touting a new attraction. "Come", I heard him call out, "Come and see the Devil's Child". It was just beginning to dawn on me who the Devil's child might be, when Rollo gave a shriek and leapt out of the cage. At the same time, Gaspard entered, leading a group of carnival goers.. They gathered around the cage, gawking at me, and murmuring to one another. Once everyone was inside the tent, Gaspard signaled to me to remove the sack. The fool! I had no intention of removing the one thing that hid me from those people. I just stood there, staring at the ground. Gaspard spoke to me, and demanded that I remove the sack. I continued to ignore him. The crowd became restless, and one or two of them began to complain. Gaspard unlocked the cage door, strode inside, and forcibly pulled the sack from my head. Some of the crowd screamed in horror, and even worse some laughed at me. Infuriated at my disobedience, Gaspard proceeded to beat me in front of everyone. For some reason, this only increased the general mirth, and soon everyone was laughing. Gaspard finally let me go, and I pulled the sack back over my head and crumpled to the floor. I could hear coins hitting the ground as the people left the tent. Finally alone, aching and bleeding, I found myself wondering how much harder they would have laughed, if Gaspard had killed me.
That night was the beginning of countless nights in countless and nameless towns. The routine barely changed. I would never willingly uncover my face. I would never make that concession. It was the one thing in my existence I could control. Of course the sack would come off, but I would not be the one to do it. Night after night, Gaspard was forced to unmask the Devil's Child. Night after night, Gaspard beat me for it, as well. I received black eyes, broken ribs, and a fine knot work of scars across my back. The only reason I am still alive is that people paid well to see me. Gaspard was not a man to sacrifice profit for the mere pleasure of putting an end to me.
I became a thing. I kept no thoughts in my head, nor emotions in my heart. I woke up, ate, worked and slept. There was no more meaning to life than that. Early in my captivity, I'd dreamed of escape. That dream had faded. What was the point? Where could I go where I would not be treated as I was now? I did not want to live, I did not want to die. I did not even exist, therefore living or dying was irrelevant. There was a precipice on which I teetered, one that would have granted me true oblivion of mind and soul had I stepped over the edge. Each day, I inched closer, its attraction growing ever stronger. With only a small effort, I could have plunged into the comfort and freedom of madness. That I did not, was due in part to the one small attachment I had left to me…My small companion Rollo. During the idle time between shows, the little creature would slip between the bars of my cage, and sit before me, staring like a wise old man. What occurred after that, depended entirely on Rollo's mood. Sometimes he would creep into my lap, wrap his arms around my neck, and cling, like a child. At other times, he would explode suddenly into a frenzy of wild and quite entertaining acrobatics, and we would play. Of course, he also threw straw at me, pummeled me mercilessly and stole my food. He was Rollo, however, and my friend, and so I did not mind. We knew each other quite well, and I like to think that he was fond of me. He did not feel that way about Gaspard, however. He seemed to be terrified of the man. For when Gaspard would appear, our private audience would end . Rollo would bound from the cage and disappear, shrieking and chattering all the while.
My other tenuous bond to sanity was music. I played it over and over again in my head. Inside my private world, I composed strange and wonderful melodies. It was music I'd never encountered before. It was dark, passionate and compelling, and I knew it was uniquely mine. It carried me through my days, soothed the long nights, and mercifully muted the laughter and screams of my audience during the shows. Without the music, I surely would have stepped into the abyss, and allowed death of mind to engulf me.
My indifference to Gaspard's presence seemed to infuriate him. His beatings grew more vicious, and more frequent. I was beaten for my refusal to unmask. I was beaten if I didn't eat. I was beaten if I ate too much. If I did not take in enough money, and for Gaspard, there was never enough, I was kicked and punched to near unconsciousness. My friendship with his monkey seemed to enrage him, and I was beaten for that as well. He could not get inside my head where the music was, however, and so I was safe from him. I thought that there was no way that he could truly touch me, but I was wrong.
One night, he entered the tent while Rollo and I were engaged in a silent game of "Climb on Erik's head". As usual, Rollo shrieked in alarm and fled the cage. This time, he was not fast enough. Gaspard quickly grabbed him, looked me straight in the eye, and simply snapped the little fellow's neck. The screeching and struggling ceased, and the small form went limp. I for once was thrust out of my self-isolation, and I rushed forward, screaming curses at the man. I shook the bars, demanding to be let out, threatening to kill him. Gaspard merely laughed at me. He tossed Rollo's little body aside, and left the tent. I did not cry. I swallowed the pain, and retreated even further into the blank, emotionless refuge of my being. I was truly alone, now. Now there was just me and the music. There was a little part of my mind that rebelled against the walls I was building all around me, and that part coldly considered the cruelty I'd just witnessed. Someday, it would be Gaspard's turn.